Murder, she wrote

After nearly a year, all I can come up with is a whimsical little nonsense. So be it.

Murder, she wrote
I looked into her eyes
I saw my death dance, Black/
the night flows around her shoulders
So tell me, is that what you wanted/
to tell me? Is that the promise you/
couldn't keep? Is that the lie
I took as my truth?
Is that the dream, the foolish dream?
Murder, I wrote.
And let's get back to business.